


Would Burn So Yellow

by ken_ichijouji (dommific)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Boys Kissing, M/M, Male Character of Color, Masturbation, POV Male Character, Queer Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:40:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8351314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dommific/pseuds/ken_ichijouji
Summary: Victor asks Yuuri a leading question that spins off into something a little more complicated.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feelslikefire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feelslikefire/gifts), [SailAweigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailAweigh/gifts), [Friedcheesemogu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Friedcheesemogu/gifts), [Jawbone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jawbone/gifts), [catadamon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catadamon/gifts).



> Title taken from "Oh, Maker" by Janelle Monae.
> 
> The ballerina committing suicide with a train is a reference to the classic film "The Red Shoes."
> 
> Victor's cologne exists, you can find it [on the Nordstrom website.](http://shop.nordstrom.com/s/jo-malone-wood-sage-sea-salt-cologne/3790335?origin=category-personalizedsort)
> 
> A pavlova is a meringue-based type of cake named after a ballerina. It actually originates in New Zealand, not Russia like the name suggests. Regardless, I think it's the type of thing Victor would like to eat.
> 
> Maybe 2% of men in Japan are circumcised, btw. It's not common there, hence Yuuri having a foreskin.
> 
> If you like this, please consider leaving a comment or a kudos! It's my first anime fic in a long time and I'm nervous. You can also say hi to me on [my tumblr.](http://sinkingorswimming.tumblr.com)

“Yuuri,” Victor begins at Yu-Topia the evening after the Hot Springs on Ice tourney. 

“Yes?” Yuuri pauses to breathe on his glasses, cleaning them on his shirt. They’re much better after he does this, and he replaces them on his face. He can see Victor clearly now, his hair shining in the light of the onsen. 

“What do you do for pleasure?” Victor asks.

Yuuri picks at his steamed vegetables and brown rice, pausing to pop a broccoli floret into his mouth. He chews, swallowing before he answers. “What do you mean?”

Victor has the _katsudon_ , of course, but for once he’s not eating it. He keeps stirring the pork around with a smile that’s both sharp and soft at the same time. “Do you do anything for fun? Or do you just practice all the time?”

“Ah, I mean---” Yuuri blushes. Truth be told, he doesn’t have any hobbies. “No, college and skating kept me too busy. Sometimes I read, I guess, but generally no.”

Victor looks at him with that smile. “Do you do anything to relax then? How do you unwind?”

Yuuri remembers when he was young, before he moved to Detroit, he de-stressed by staring at his posters of Victor, imagining they were close friends. Heat floods his cheeks. “Ah, I just...lie down. And...sleep.”

“Sleep,” Victor says with a thoughtful tone. He glances behind Yuuri, causing Yuuri to do the same---his mother is entertaining a guest of the onsen and can’t hear them. “So when you lie down, do you just sleep right away? Or do you pleasure yourself?”

Yuuri’s face is now the color of a fire truck. He didn’t hear Victor right. “Uh, I---” he stammers. “I uh...I…”

Victor’s chin rests in one of his hands. “So you do then? I do it too! I’m usually too keyed up after I perform, and it helps soothe me. Though since I usually win, I suppose soothe is the wrong word. Settles is more accurate, I think. It takes the edge off, regardless, and I can sleep after a victory very easily when I jerk off!”

Yuuri buries his face in his hands. He feels like steam is coming out of his ears, and he kind of wants to drown himself in the hot spring. “I uh...no...I don’t---”

Victor reacts like a needle got ripped off a record at his happening party. “Yuuri. You don’t jerk off?” The words come out in a whispered hush, like he can’t believe what he heard or like he’s telling Yuuri his father died. 

Why he couldn’t have whispered the earlier part is anyone’s guess, and it contributes to Yuuri’s complete and utter mortification. He can’t bring himself to answer with words so instead he flails his hands from one end of the table to the other.

Victor whistles, different from how he whistled when Yuuri did the “Eros” dance. “No wonder you related ‘Eros’ to food. You’re cute, you know that? I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so sweet. You’re a _pavlova_!”

Yuuri had a piece of a _pavlova_ once, and the comparison doesn’t offend him, but the part about relating the “Eros” to _katsudon_ stings, like he’s being mocked. “It…” he begins. He swallows, face still stop-sign-red, and he takes a sip of his _genmaicha_. “It’s not like I’ve never---”

It’s a bold faced lie.

Victor can tell, too, if the subtle change in his expression is any indicator. He shifts from overjoyed to something deeper, something a little more interested, and Yuuri feels the scrutiny. “You should try it.”

Yuuri slides down onto the floor, hiding as best he can under the table. This puts him in close proximity to Victor’s crotch, which makes his body temperature rise in a way that’s not in line with his humiliation. At this distance, he can smell Victor, and he smells like the sake he chose for dinner, wood sage, and sea salt. Yuuri realizes he made a tactical error because he’s all he can smell---he can’t even make out the _katsudon_ anymore.

“What? Yuuri?” Victor bends down, his sea green eyes blinking at Yuuri under the table. “Why are you down there?”

Yuuri bangs his head on the table and runs. He clears his plate so his mother doesn’t have to do more than she should. “It’s late---I need to sleep, I’m going to bed! Good night---” comes spilling out of his mouth like one long word. 

He runs, slamming the screen shut and sits in the dark. Yuuri buries his face in his hands as he hunches over on his floor trying to drown out the sounds of the onsen patrons and Victor. There’s a knock on his door, but he ignores it and prays the person goes away. They must because it doesn’t happen again, and his mother would probably barge in anyhow.

Yuuri flops on his bed, putting in his earbuds and playing music to drown out the background noise. His glasses get folded up and placed on the bedside table, but the music on his iPod is still “On Love: Eros,” and he’s so taken aback he can’t bring himself to change it 

It’s embarrassing, he thinks. He’s never had a girlfriend---he’s never even kissed anyone. He’s been so focused on becoming Victor’s equal, on surpassing him at skating, he’s never really tried. He’s also not very confident, and he knows this, so why a person would want him is anyone’s guess. He wonders now, thanks to Victor’s questioning if there’s something wrong with him, if he’s broken in some way because he’s twenty-three and hasn’t done these things. 

Yuuri rolls over onto his stomach, “Eros” playing as he drifts off to a frustrated sleep. 

He dreams of skating, but this time in a pair with a man who smells of wood sage and sea salt.

_\-----_

The next day begins at six as Victor and Yuuri enter Ice Castle Hasetsu. It’s time to work on the quads, since Yuuri still can’t land them in competition. 

“Again,” Victor says.

Yuuri skates clockwise around the rink into a quad Salchow. He almost wipes out, but he puts his hand down and regains his balance.

Victor tsks. “Again.”

Yuuri skates clockwise around the rink into the Salchow again. He does wipe out this time, landing on his face. He bites his lip on the impact, blood spattering across the ice. 

“Damn!” Victor says. He skates to him, helping him stand. Victor’s left hand touches Yuuri’s chin, lifting his face. He wipes his thumb across the wound, smearing Yuuri’s blood across his lips. “That looks bad. Go see Yuuko to get patched up.”

Yuuri doesn’t feel any pain, and he hardly hears what Victor says. His blood rushes through his ears, his cheeks heating. Victor’s face is so close, he can smell his breath. He smells like mint, Yuuri realizes. He smells like mint, but not in an artificial way like toothpaste or gum. He smells like the actual plant---sweet, not medicinal. 

“Yuuri?” Victor asks, tilting his head to one side. “Go.”

Yuuri crashes back down to Earth. “Oh. Yes.” It takes every ounce of his willpower to leave Victor’s personal space to get the first aid kit. 

“Oh no, Yuuri, what happened?” Yuuko says as he comes into the office.

“The Salchow,” Yuuri replies. 

He grabs the kit, and Yuuko helps him clean the blood off his face. She’s right up in his space like Victor was, but Yuuri doesn’t notice it the same. He can’t really smell her, for one thing, and her eyes aren’t like seaglass. Her touches are clinical and with purpose, while Victor’s are intimate, affectionate--- 

He wishes Victor were here. He’s very far away, Yuuri thinks, and he... _likes it_ when Victor touches him. Yuuri doesn’t hate it when other people do or anything, but he _really likes it_ when Victor touches him.

“You’re all set,” Yuuko tells him. 

Yuuri hadn’t even realized she’d been fixing his face. “Thank you, Yu-chan.” 

Yuuri walks back out to the ice, and Victor leans against a wall by the office door. He’s taken off his scarf and jacket, wearing just a long-sleeved Under Armour shirt that shows off the muscles in his chest. Victor has a perfect body, Yuuri knows this from his utter refusal to wear clothing at Yu-Topia when walking to the bath, and Yuuri’s brain goes to what he looks like under the clothes. 

He averts his gaze, getting back on the ice. He does two laps around the entire rink before doing a Salchow, landing it perfectly.

“Yes!” he hears Victor exclaim. “Again.”

Yuuri skates around the rink, launches into a Salchow, and sticks the landing again. He does it a third time, then a fourth. Again and again, he lands the move with finesse until Victor is satisfied and asks him to work on his steps.

All he has to do to land a Salchow is think of pleasing Victor.

_\-----_

They practiced for six hours until the rink opened to the public, and Yuuri ate lunch, went running, did his other exercise, and now he soaks in the onsen. Victor comes out, fully naked of course, and steps into the water with him. His dog has followed behind him, curling up on the edge. Yuuri makes it look like he’s not looking as best he can.

Victor sighs with pleasure as the relaxes into the hot water. Yuuri clears his throat and avoids his gaze. He can feel Victor staring at him. “Is everything okay?” Victor finally asks.

“Yes,” Yuuri says. It’s not a lie, not exactly.

Victor smiles. “Good. I was worried about you after that spill. It looked nasty. I can’t permanently scar my _katsudon_ , though you’d still be delicious. Food doesn’t have to look perfect to be tasty.”

Yuuri flushes at the last word, because Victor’s voice got husky and hushed. He wishes he wouldn’t say things like that because he wants him to be sincere, but he’s Victor and Yuuri is Yuuri, and on what planet would he be serious?

Victor cuts through the water, coming up on Yuuri’s personal space again. He smells the sage and salt, the mint of his breath, as Victor inspects his face. He runs his thumb over the scab, Yuuri inhaling sharply at his proximity. Victor’s eyes are focused on his mouth, and Yuuri’s body turns pink. 

Victor licks his lower lip, his eyes dark in the light of the onsen. “Yeah, you’re still tasty.” Sweat beads on Yuuri’s face and chest---Victor too, though. Victor’s eyes are glassy, like he’s high, and Yuuri wants to do something, like run his hands through his hair, like caress his clavicle, like maybe hold him close and kiss him.

Victor’s lips hover a millimeter away from Yuuri’s, Yuuri closing his eyes and deciding for once in his life he won’t run away. For once in his life he will see it through, he won’t let his glass heart get in his way.

Victor doesn’t kiss his mouth, but he kisses the spot next to the corner of Yuuri’s lips. His face burns from the contact, his whole body lighting aflame. He dimly hears the door open, and Victor splashes away from him back to the other side. 

“Yuuri,” his mother says. “You’ve been in there too long; you’re probably a prune! Come out and have some dinner.”

Victor runs his finger over his lips. He smiles at Yuuri.

“Ah---” Yuuri says. “Okay.” He gets out of the water very carefully and puts on his robe. He can feel Victor’s eyes boring a hole into his back as he heads back inside. He turns to close the door, and they make eye contact.

Victor’s look promises one word: _later_.

_\-----_

Everyone’s gone to bed, Yu-Topia closed for the night, and Yuuri for once is restless, unable to sleep right away. He picks up the iPod and plugs in the ear buds, “On Love: Eros” playing again. He rolls over onto his side, the flamenco-style guitar riffing in his ears.

He thinks of the story of the beautiful woman seducing the handsome playboy, only this time it’s different. This time when he visualizes them, he’s in the role of the beautiful lady and Victor is the playboy. He imagines Victor in a chair, white shirt with the collar unbuttoned and black suspenders holding up a sleek pair of trousers. He imagines himself straddling his hips in a black shirt with silver suspenders and matching pants. 

Daydream Yuuri smiles the smile he gave during the "Eros" dance, and Daydream Victor whistles at him again. He sits on Victor’s lap, burying his face in his neck and inhaling the smell of his skin. Victor’s arms wrap around Yuuri’s waist.

In reality, Yuuri’s body heats, and he feels his blood rush south. His cock stiffens, waking up at the fantasy, and Yuuri reaches into his shorts, pushing them down to free it. He holds himself in his hand for a minute as the track ends and repeats. 

He experiments, running his hand down the shaft. It feels good but it’s missing something, like lubrication. So Yuuri spits in his hand and repeats it. That’s much better, and he starts doing it in earnest with the music, and his fantasy deepens into him kissing Victor’s neck. His daydream self is more bold than he is, his lips trailing up Victor’s skin to his mouth. The kiss in his head starts chaste, but Victor takes advantage and deepens it, and Yuuri in real life gasps before covering his mouth with his free hand.

His foreskin is over his head, and he rubs his cock as his fantasy shifts into them lying on the floor, Victor over him, pulling down his suspenders and unbuttoning his shirt. Yuuri does the same, and Victor bends down to kiss his collarbone. His lips in Yuuri’s head are in between dry and moist, warm, and electric. Yuuri groans as the Victor of his dreams undoes the fly of his pants, taking him in hand. 

_My little pavlova_, Victor whispers. _My delicious katsudon._

It’d be silly if it were anyone else, but Victor’s voice in Yuuri’s imagination is honey smooth and silky. Victor squeezes Yuuri’s cock, and that simple move causes Yuuri to bite the fat part of his palm as he comes, the semen spurting out of his head three times and dripping onto his stomach. 

Once his vision clears, and he can focus again, Yuuri feels the come cooling on his body. He thinks maybe he should be grossed out by it, but it’s fine. He runs a finger through it and tastes his release---it’s salty, tangy like sweat. He decides he likes it.

He wants Victor to taste just as good.

_\-----_

Yuuri wakes up at 4:45 and feels relaxed for the first time in possibly his entire life. His body is languid, loose in a way it hasn’t been in a long time, and he gets dressed to head to the Ice Castle. 

Victor is already there somehow, which never happens. Yuuri freezes in the doorway. Victor shrugs, and Yuuri notices his nose is red. His eyes are also a bit unfocused. “I haven’t slept! And...I may be a little drunk still,” he admits.

Yuuri shakes his head a few times with a flush, puts on his skates, and warms up on the rink. It’s like he can still smell Victor on his fingers, even though he didn’t actually touch him, and it’s like he can still taste him on his breath in spite of the same. Yuuri does arm flourishes as he flows around the rink with a fluidity he’s seldom had. 

He feels Victor’s eyes on him as he decides to go for it. He does a quad Salchow perfectly followed by a triple toe loop, and then he stops in the center of the rink.

Victor’s more with it now, one hundred percent awake. “What brought this on, Yuuri?”

Yuuri averts his gaze because he doesn’t know how to answer.

Victor’s face forms half a smile, one of his eyebrows rising into his hair. “No, something’s changed. It’s obvious in your skating. There’s a smoothness, a subtle liquidity you haven’t had before. What’s different?”

Yuuri’s cheeks turn to flames. “I uh...it’s---”

Victor’s eyes get a knowing look. “Wait. What I asked you the other day...did you try it?”

Yuuri tries to shrink himself and hide. He wants to get on the first plane to Russia and work with Yurio and Yakov. He tries to answer with a word, but instead a choked little sound escapes his throat.

Victor’s a bright, quicksilver grin. “This is wonderful! You’re going to have to do this the night before every performance from now on! You’ll definitely win if you make it a habit! After all, like I said, it helps me!”

Yuuri contemplates a clean death, possibly skating in front of a train like that ballerina did in a movie Minako made him watch before he went to Detroit. That involves waiting until winter, though, and he just doesn’t have that kind of time.

Victor leans in his face with his eyes twinkling. “What’d you think about? Or who is the question? What girl caught your fancy?”

Yuuri rubs a hand down his face.

“Or---” Victor continues, his eyes turning soft. “Was it a girl at all? Maybe it was a man? Or maybe it was---”

Yuuri cuts him off by kissing him. He realizes ten seconds into it he’s a bad kisser---their teeth clash together, and it makes his scab sting, but Victor’s breath is a mixture of Suntory whiskey and the mint, his body is a warm weight against the chill of the rink, and they don’t bump noses. 

Yuuri breaks the kiss, breathless, and blinks, turning his face away and skating to the far end of the rink. He circles around it, doing another Salchow. 

When he can finally bring himself to look at Victor, his coach is smiling like the sun.


End file.
